Spare Me Your Midsky Screaming

The domonant moonbeams and strong yellowy rays from outside in the busy street,

Shoot staight in through the curtains to glow vibrantly upon my walls,

But they still don't reach me,

All forms of vision and all my light are downed out underneath these heavy sheets,

Where I whimper bitter in the darkness - I cringe, curled up and reminisce,

Reinventing all those stupidly wasted moments and the millions of chances that I've missed,

And I pray all the way to Jesus that they'll come back to me.